Delivered
by linetteflys
Summary: He wasn’t one to be professionally skilled at comforting girls; they didn’t come to him for those sorts of things. “And besides, I have a bigger refrigerator box at home you can sit in.” —KakashiSakura.


**Delivered**  
Anette Lyy

Standard disclaimer applies.**  
notes: **122809. Dedicated to moodiful819 :) Thank you so very-cherry much for your kind reviews and (hopefully) continued support. I hope you like it!

* * *

_It was pathetic, really. The way she curled into the side of the box, like that small insignificant stance can protect her from the cruelty of life._

_How very, very naive._

_And sad._

* * *

Kakashi was on his way home from the grocery store.

It sucked to not have a wife, by the way. He was always forced to do bothersome chores around the apartment. Like cooking, for instance. And there was always laundry and vacuuming to be done. It was all pointless in his opinion; he didn't even care if his house was a mess.

But that didn't stop him from complaining and cleaning it up anyway. Maybe he had OCD and wasn't aware of it. Or, there was always the case that age brought maturity, and he felt slightly liable to do _something_ when he got home.

Kakashi chewed on this thought of why he was such a neat-freak—when he _clearly_ had no reason to be—when he stopped at the dreary entrance of a deserted alley.

In which he didn't particularly _hear_ anything, but he did see movement. And that movement was pink.

The first thing to pop up in Kakashi's mind when pink is in question, is _Sakura Haruno_.

She's a nice girl. Very pretty, in fact. And extremely obedient.

She comes from a wealthy family and was nurtured and raised with the utmost care—like a divine princess of sorts. Brilliant and top of her class _always_, even the genius and prodigy couldn't keep up with that kind of brain power. Kakashi recalled she had a decent amount of friends, as she is always helpful and caring.

But—a big one at that. There was just _something_ about her that wasn't quite right. Everyone has their flaws, after all.

Thus, Kakashi and his loyal groceries moved lithely into the dark alleyway, just three blocks down from his apartment complex. It was his duty to see to it that one of his beloved students isn't hanging around with thugs or being raped. You never know these days.

And that's how he stumbled upon her. Small and fragile, sitting in a wet and smelly old refrigerator box with her knees to her chest, trying to isolate herself from humanity and what its forced her to become.

"Well what do we have here?" Kakashi speculated, as he made his presence known to her. "It looks like there's only one free puppy left." He wasn't one to be professionally skilled at comforting girls; they didn't come to him for those sorts of things.

Sakura lifted her head to glance at the speaker, discovered it was her Home Economics teachers and his groceries, and returned to burying her pink head into the gap between her knees and her chest. "Go away."

Her voice was colder than the one he was accustomed to hearing at school. Even her pretty face was different. Her normally bright green eyes were glazed over with sadness; it was like looking at grass through foggy windows.

Kakashi is one to mind his own business. But Sakura is one that needs to learn that it's okay to depend on others every once in a while.

She may not admit it, but she doesn't want him to abandon her. No one else will enter a dark and deserted alleyway just because they see pink—lest they live there, i.e. hobos, gang members, criminals, molesters, Orochimaru, etcetera, etcetera. Her posture practically _begs_ him to save her.

And Hatake Kakashi may always be _late_ to the rescue, but he's always there to rescue, either way.

"Come back to my place," he says over his shoulders as he proceeds to turn back and walk home again. "Or else I'll have no choice but to call your parents and ask why you're hiding in a box."

Sakura started to shuffle. Kakashi smirked at his persuasive skills—drag in the big dogs.

"And besides," he adds as he waits for her to catch up to his steady pace, "I have a bigger refrigerator box at home you can sit in."

He hears the low rumble in her throat.

"And if you'd like," he pressed on, to satisfy his own amusement, "I can crank up the air-conditioning and shut off the lights to make it look all dark and spooky just like—"

"_Okay_," she growls at him fiercely. Her temper was always very cute, he recalled. "I _get_ it Kakashi-sensei."

They treaded without further conversation, side-stepping the murky water underfoot, as Kakashi kept mostly to himself and Sakura strolled briskly a few steps ahead. Her mud-encrusted hand had somehow latched onto the sleeve of his white dress shirt unnoticed, till he eventually felt the slight tug that drew him quickly to the entrance.

"I'll only stay for a bit," she said firmly, as they kept the pace constant and she led the way. Women always want to be in control, Kakashi mused. Even if they're only a little yet-to-be woman that still holds on.

"I know."

* * *

_It's funny how things turn out in every sort of situation there is. Unexpected, and more than you bargained for._

_But because it was Sakura and not Anko or Kurenai, or erm, _Tsunade_; he was okay with it._

_But only for her, and only this once._

Possibly_ only this once._

* * *

Before Kakashi had even settled his groceries down and taken off his shoes, Sakura had slammed him into the nearest wall with her godly strength and proceeded to kiss him like her life depended on it.

And maybe it did. Or he liked to think so, as he obediently enacted the part she desired him to play.

He kissed her in all the right places.

_At_ all the right times.

_With_ all the right pressures beneath each lips-to-skin contact.

She greedily inhaled his scent and entwined her thin fingers into his silver hair.

Oddly enough, as good a job as Kakashi _knew_ he was doing—giving her all the access she desired to control his firm, muscled frame to her every whim and fantasy—Sakura didn't advance on him. She didn't allow him to advance on her, either. And the most baffling, she didn't even stifle a moan throughout their whole exchange—just reckless kissing; no more, no less.

Either Kakashi was losing his affect on women or… _Sakura didn't want to be affected_.

He drew away quickly when it dawned on him, carefully stabling her on the tousled sofa, as he stepped back and examine her.

She was a bucket of overflowing tears. Salty raindrops fell quietly from her shut eyes.

Kakashi sighed, shoveling a tear-streaked hand through his silver hair.

"So that's what it is," he mumbled. "And here I was getting all worried about you."

It all made sense.

Kakashi chuckled lightly and proceeded to finish unbuttoning the rest of his dress shirt; she only managed to get two buttons before she gave up. He smirked as Sakura started to shift apprehensively in her seat on the sofa.

"If all you really wanted was to rebel against your parents," _the ones that constantly pressure you to over-achieve your goals, and forcibly shape you into the perfect flower you never wanted to be_, "going home with a man that you met in a dark alley, isn't the best way to do that." Nor is it a good idea to shove him into walls and kiss him crazy, when you've entered _his_ territory.

"If it was anyone else, they wouldn't have stopped to check to see if you were crying, Sakura. They wouldn't have stopped _at all_ with those moves," he lectured half-amusedly, half-gently.

"But since it was me," Kakashi approached her to lightly drape the dress shirt over her trembling shoulders, rendering him shirtless, "and there's some god forsaken law on student-teacher relations," he bent down and lifted her chin tenderly.

When watery green irises latched onto knowledgeable and wise coal black eyes, he smiled. "I guess I'll just have to feed you and take you home." He sighed. "Without the sex," he added disappointedly.

"Thank you," she sniffed.

The chivalrous sensei rose and headed towards the forgotten groceries. Only they are loyal to him.

Lesson learned, Kakashi mused. Never abandon your groceries for women. Because although you can't feel them up—okay, _technically_, you can feel up food—they don't cry when you kiss them. Or eat them.

Life can't get any better than that.

.

.

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_Fin_

* * *

I wanted to wrap it up on a happy note, so yeah :)  
Reviews/constructive criticism/feedback is all appreciated.  
Thank you.


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